


2:13 AM

by spendon



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Insomnia, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 02:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11371062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spendon/pseuds/spendon
Summary: When Spencer can't sleep, he spends the night reminiscing on why he's so fucking stupid for falling in love with Brendon in the first place.





	2:13 AM

The time on his phone reads 2:13 A.M.

He doesn’t remember it getting to be this late, but lately, everything has been a blur. The show they finished up just a couple of hours ago - he barely remembers anything except the sharp pain in his wrist that he still feels now, after snapping his wrist too hard while drumming. He knows he had peanut M&M’s because he can still taste them, but he can’t remember if he had them before or after he and Brendon got to the hotel. It was definitely after the show, because he threw a couple at Brendon, who failed each time in catching one in his mouth, on the bus ride to their hotel, but otherwise, he’s left in the dark.

Literally.

The light coming off of his phone is the only thing illuminating his face right now. The entire room is dark, besides a bit of moonlight streaming in through the already light-drowning curtains. Brendon is sound asleep on the other side of the room, curled up in his bed and snoring softly, without a care in the world. Spencer is entirely envious of him. He wishes he could sleep like that. He hasn’t slept like that in a long, long time. In fact, within the past year, Spencer’s barely slept at all. Night after night of getting maybe an hour or two, sometimes three if he’s lucky, of sleep, and only surviving the day by drowning himself in coffee and pure adrenaline. Most of the time it works, but other times, it leaves Spencer shaking, trembling, getting him worried looks from the rest of his bandmates, and hushed whispers that he can’t quite make out against the ringing in his ears. Those are the days he feels the most like a disappointment, and he’s always dreading the next one.

His anxiety medication doesn’t seem to be helping it, either, no matter how many pills he downs in the nearest bathroom, away from all the judgmental eyes. He’s so tired of the disappointed glances he gets when he acts up like this, but really, he can’t help it. He needs someone to sit down with him and let him lean on their shoulder, but lately, he’s had to be that shoulder for someone. He doesn’t mind, but maybe, once in a while, it would be nice for someone to give a shit about him, too. Brendon, of course, he’ll comfort Brendon before a show, try to cure his pre-stage anxieties. Dallon, he’ll have to sit with sometimes, too, remind him that his wife and kids are doing fine, that he’ll get to see them soon, that they know he loves them. Spencer doesn’t have a wife of kids to fret over, but he gets anxious, too. He deserves comfort, too, right?

But he’ll never hold it against anyone, for not being there. He’s not exactly seeking it out, and he doesn’t blame them if they don’t offer. Brendon… he wants to be there for Brendon. Always. He wants to make sure that he’s okay, make sure he never has to go through anything alone. Dumb, stupid, year's worth of a crush or not. The crush has nothing to do with it. The crush, in which, he would never ever ever let Brendon find out about, because he’s not going to put their whole friendship on the line over a dumb stupid crush. Besides, he’s survived this long, so if he can keep these feelings buried for maybe… the rest of his life, and continue being a good friend like he always has tried to be without the influence of his dumb, stupid feelings, then, things will work out.

 

Spencer spends the next hour reminding himself how stupid he is for falling in love with Brendon in the first place. Just an hour ago he was telling himself it was a stupid crush, but he can’t even try to pretend to lie to himself. He knows he’s in love with Brendon. He knows he’s been in love with Brendon for a long, long time, and only two years ago did that fact really hit him in the face. He remembers when it happened. They were sitting together in the studio, Brendon toying with audio files on his laptop while Spencer sat and watched, listening with half of a brain to Brendon talk, the other half lost in looking at him, taking his every detail into account. His sharp jawline, but the softness of his cheeks. His big doe eyes that looked ridiculously adorable in his thick-rimmed glasses, his perfectly plush lips and how soft they looked when they were drawn into a smile. He remembers staring at him and, suddenly, with his chest absolutely aching, realizing how in love with him he was.

And in that moment, not only did it hit him that he was in love with his best friend, but that he’d _been_ in love with him all along and just hadn’t realized it. He thought about how he first felt when he met Brendon, the little twinge in his chest when he saw his big goofy smile. Hearing Brendon sing for the first time, and the way his stomach felt like it had little butterflies floating around in it. How he blushed ridiculously at every compliment Brendon gave him, and when he cuddled up next to him, like nothing else mattered. Meeting Pete Wentz for the first time and immediately feeling some weird flare of jealousy at how ecstatic Brendon was to meet him, to impress him, to-

-how he remembered Brendon crawling into his bed one night at a sleepover, nudging him awake and whimpering something about a nightmare. Normally, Spencer would have smacked _anyone_ who dare woke him (and Ryan could attest to that, on many accounts), but within his first few waking moments Brendon says he slipped an arm around his waist, pulled him close, shushed him and pet his hair until he was falling back asleep. Spencer can recall all the times he’s had a soft spot for Brendon and gotten ridiculous complaints from various bandmates over the years (never Brendon, of _course_ never Brendon) about how he suffers from favoritism. Spencer had always denied it with a sly smirk and a wink to Brendon, but now, oh God, now, _now_ , he’s so fucked.

He would give Brendon his coffee, his pop tarts, his anything snack-wise if he didn’t finish it. If he was taking up a seating space, Brendon would sit in his lap and he wouldn’t say a word. He remembers Ryan trying to do that once, just to test his “Brendon is Spencer’s favorite” theory, and how he didn’t even give Ryan a chance - he stuck his leg out and battled him with it until he gave up on his attempt.

 

_“Hey, B, c’mere,” Spencer says through a mouthful of waffle, holding an arm out to his friend. Brendon happily bounces over to him, wrapping himself up in Spencer’s arm, dangling around his waist. He flashes Spencer a curious look, a pleasant smile, and quirks an eyebrow. He’s ridiculously adorable in the morning._

_“You want my bacon?” he continues, brushing his thumb against Brendon’s hip._

_“Yes! Thank you!” Brendon cheers, snatching it off his plate and running to hide from Ryan without a second thought. Ryan, across the table, stares at Spencer, dumbfounded. His jaw hangs slightly agape._

_“No fucking way,” he says, to no one in particular, letting his thoughts dangle in the air. “There’s no fucking way you just did that. You don’t even let_ me _have your bacon, and I’ve known you since - since the womb!”_

_“Yeah, but,” Spencer begins, swallowing down his waffle, “but Brendon is actually nice to me. Unlike you. And when I’m in a good mood in the morning, when the stars align just right, and I’m not really that hungry…? Brendon gets my bacon.”_

_“You shithead,” Ryan whines. He looks at Jon as he descends down the stairs. “Jon, Spencer gave Brendon his bacon!”_

_"Good Lord,” Jon comments, running a hand through his hair. He squints at Ryan and Spencer accusingly at the dining table, his eyesight still sleep-fuzzy. “When has he ever given_ you _bacon, huh, Ryan?”_

_“Exactly!”_

 

_The next week spent in the cabin is hardly productive. Ryan ditches all hopes and dreams of getting some writing done in favor of tormenting Spencer, reminding him of all of his great qualities, why they’re even best friends in the first place (and his sprouting doubts), but all he does is irritate Spencer further to the point where he’s threatening him with a drumstick. From anyone else, it would have been funny, but a Spencer woken up at seven in the morning to work until noon doing practice is not a good Spencer to push. Ryan hides from him for the rest of the day, but the next morning he’s back to his antics._

_Spencer has taken up the loveseat to himself, sprawled across the one cushion, his legs thrown over one of the arms. He’s drinking coffee to get himself ready for Ryan’s attitude today, and Brendon’s (admittedly cute) endless amounts of energy, but it seems Ryan has got him right where he wants him today._

_Brendon walks in in his pyjamas, skipping over the perfectly empty couch in favor of Spencer’s lap. All Spencer does is sit up a little to accommodate him, and then he’s back to lounging around like it’s nobody’s business. Ryan watches from the doorway, huffing._

_“Oh, come the fuck on,” he mutters to Jon, standing behind him. “This is getting ridiculous.”_

_An hour later, Brendon’s up and wandering back about. His energy is keeping him from sitting still. Spencer watches in amusement as he continuously changes the channel, something that would piss the other guys off any day._

_Ryan heads towards him, and- what is he doing? He looks like he’s about to sit down in his la-_

_Spencer kicks a leg out, keeping Ryan away. “What are you doing?” he demands, narrowing his eyes._

_“Proving a point,” Ryan grumbles, and sulks back over to Jon._

 

Looking back now, Spencer doesn’t know how he didn’t realize. He doesn’t know how _Brendon_ didn’t realize, considering how obvious he was. It’s kind of humiliating to think about, and his face burns at the thought. He was so _embarrassing_ . And he doesn’t want to even _begin_ to think about if or when any of the other guys caught on. For one thing, he knows Zack knows, and that fact alone may quite possibly be worse than the actual crush itself.

 

_“You are going to get hurt, Spencer,” Zack hisses, but his tone isn’t malicious at all. It’s concerned, pitiful, warning. He has him cornered in the bus lounge, nobody else on there but the two of them, blocking the only way out. It’s kind of suffocating, because yeah, Spencer knows he’s going to get hurt. He realized that already. But confronting that idea and having someone else actually spit it out to him, where he can’t pretend that fact doesn’t exist, is what’s heartbreaking. Now, he has to accept it._

_“Zack,” Spencer says quietly, his voice strained. “Zack, I know, just-”_

_“You need to get over him,” he continues, cutting him off. His tone is more serious than he’s ever heard him. “You need to get over him, and fast, Spencer, because things like this just don’t work out. They don’t ever get out. I know it hurts. I know it does. But if you don’t fucking get over him, you’re going to get hurt.”_

_“I was never going to do anything, I’m better than that, Zack, I’m not going to risk the integrity of the band over some little cru-”_

_Zack cuts him off again. “This isn’t about the band, Spencer. This is about_ you. _”_

_The look on his face is lethal._

_S_ _pencer opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He can’t find anything to say, he can’t argue anything at all, because he knows that Zack is right. He just doesn’t want to admit it._

_“Hey, guys!” comes the sweet, adorkable voice of the one and only Brendon Urie. Spencer doesn’t remember hearing the door to the bus open. He wonders if Brendon’s been here all along. The anxiety that settles in his stomach is crippling, but the soft look he gets when he sees Brendon’s dumb, stupid, kissable face covers any sign of that._

_Zack gives him a look. Zack can tell._

_“Remember what I said, Spence,” he says lowly, and Spencer wonders if he’s just imagining the quiver in his voice there. Zack turns to leave, pushing past Brendon with no animosity, just in a hurry to get out. Brendon throws a glance over his shoulder, frowning slightly, then looks back to Spencer with invasive curiosity._

_“Did I miss anything?”_

_Spencer pauses. “No, Brendon. C’mere, you wanna play Space Invaders on my laptop?”_

 

He snaps out of it when he realizes that his pulse is pounding in his ears. Anxiety is wreaking his nerves and making his hands tremble. He sets his phone down on the bed and sits up, holding his head, rubbing his temples in attempt to destress. It’s not going to work, Spencer knows that, but it’s worth a shot and better than taking more of the medication set on the nightstand next to him. When he looks over, there’s just enough moonlight streaming in through the curtains for him to make out Brendon’s sleeping form, his chest rising and falling with each breath he takes. Watching him, even for a little bit, helps him calm down slightly. His hands stop shaking and his pulse isn’t as loud, but there’s still this horrible, horrible feeling in his gut, reminiscent of how he felt in that moment with Zack cornering him.

If Spencer had a dollar for every time he caught Zack giving him a sad look, he’d probably be twice as rich as he is now. Even today, before the show started, he was talking to Brendon. The way he was smiling was stupid and dorky and affectionate, and it made Spencer’s heart melt, and as he looked over Brendon’s shoulder, he saw Zack standing backstage, shaking his head slowly.

 

_“Still not over him, huh,” Zack says to him one day when they’re all laughing, having drinks at Brendon’s house. Brendon is in the pool, playing chicken with Dallon. Sarah is on his shoulders while Breezy is on Dallon’s, and they battle it out with pool noodles. Their shrieks of laughter are like how he feels when he drinks lemonade - nostalgic. Sweet. And the tiniest trace of bitterness left in there._

_“No,” he admits, sighing. He’s sitting at the far-edge of the pool, his legs dipped in, still warming up to the cold water. Zack stands next to him, observing the four having fun. Suddenly, Sarah delivers a hard blow to Breezy’s torso, and she falls backwards into the water. Brendon lets out a victorious howl of laughter and high-five’s Sarah. Breezy emerges giggling._

_“Sarah got over him,” Zack reminds the drummer. “What makes it so hard for you?”_

_“Sarah has_ Linda, _” Spencer retorts dryly. “And Sarah wasn’t in love with him for… God, how long have I known him? They dated for a couple of months and neither of them felt it. That’s different than what this is.”_

_“So, what is this, then?”_

_“I don’t know,” he swallows, feeling like something was caught in his throat._

He doesn’t know how he’d feel if he ever told Brendon how he felt. Coming out to him was one of the most terrifying yet strangely comforting things moments in his life. But, telling him how he felt about him, his best friend of ten years, is an entirely different story. Brendon has _never_ shown any sign of being interested in him (besides that one night when he was wasted out of his mind, but alcoholic influence does _not_ count and it will _never_ count and _God_ Spencer is so fucked), and ruining their friendship over this? Was not worth it, not one bit.

_Spencer is twenty years old and his entire body is shaking. No amount of pills he swallowed could prepare him for the possible social death he was about to face. No amount of alcohol he drank would mellow him out enough for it, either. No, he had to do this entirely sober, even if he felt like he was going to throw up, and possibly lose one of his closest friends in the world. His throat feels tight and his eyes might be already watering at the very idea of Brendon deserting him._

_He can’t bring himself to ring the doorbell, so he opts for sending Brendon a text instead to alert him that, yes, hello, I’m standing right outside your door like a fucking maniac, and you’re about to remove me from your life and that’s totally fine, just please make it quick before I implode. He sends:_

_| Hey. Outside your door._

_Needless to say, Brendon answers the door fairly quickly. He gives Spencer the most bewildered look, like he can’t believe he was seriously outside. His expression goes through a cycle of change rather quickly, from surprised, to delighted, to confused, and then concerned. He grabs Spencer by the hand and drags him inside before he can say anything, shutting the door behind him, eyebrows furrowed in a worried look. Spencer inhales sharply. He’s really about to do this._

_“Are you okay?” Brendon says quietly. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”_

_“Brendon, I’m bi,” Spencer blurts out. He immediately slaps his hand over his mouth. He didn’t mean to say it like that, just sudden and matter-of-factly. He had a whole speech ready in his head, but all of that has gone down the drain with his idiocy. God, he’s so stupid. Brendon is going to fucking kill him._

_Brendon gives him a long, considering look. Spencer wants to die. He really wants to die, because Brendon is going to ask him to leave the band, Brendon is going to tell him to get the fuck out, Brendon is going to-_

_“Oh, chill,” Brendon says, smiling. “Did you like, just figure that out? That’s totally fine, dude.” There’s another long pause, and then, “Wait. Did you think I was going to like, yell at you, or something? Is that why you look so scared?”_

_Spencer nods weakly, biting his lip. Brendon is fine with it, but part of him still kind of wants to cry. How could he think that Brendon would be so cruel? Of course Brendon would be fine with it, he’s_ Brendon _, Brendon’s his best friend and he has the nerve to doubt him like this? Part of him wants to apologize, but all he can manage is a weak nod, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth._

_“Aw, Spence,” Brendon coos, stepping forward and wrapping Spencer up in a big hug. “Spence, you know I’d love you even if you were a secret agent sent to kill me, right? I’ll always love you, no matter what, man.”_

 

Spencer hates himself for doubting him. Yeah, last time he doubted him like that, Brendon didn’t care. But if Spencer outright told him that he was in love with him? That would ruin their friendship, the band, everything. Brendon would never talk to him again. Brendon would remind him how painstakingly straight he was in the romantic department. He remembers the experimental phase, remembers seeing Brendon occasionally take a guy home, and then hearing all about it in excruciating detail the next morning. He didn’t really think coming out to his best friend would result in him getting to hear about his night-time endeavors, but he really wishes someone had notified him before then. The slight, sickening pang of jealousy that struck him every time was torturous.

When Brendon met Sarah, though, it was different. It wasn’t jealousy that hit Spencer, not envy, or anything. He was actually… relieved. Brendon having Sarah meant that he would stop with the guys - they were clearly infatuated with each other. And Sarah was nice, she stuck around, unlike the guys Brendon dabbled in. Sarah was friendly, sweet, funny when she had to be. Brendon often called the two of them his “blue-eyed beauties,” making Spencer’s stomach flutter.

One time, when Spencer was in one of his low points, coming off of a buzz, he recalls Sarah sitting down next to him on the couch. She didn’t say anything, she simply put her hand on his knee and squeezed, giving him a look. Her brows were knitted together, those deep blue eyes saying everything he needed to hear. She rested her head on his shoulder, bringing her other hand around his back and rubbing it soothingly, murmuring some kind of nonsense that he didn’t even understand in that moment, but it was better than getting lost to his own thoughts. He always liked Sarah, but in that moment, she had his one-hundred percent approval. He could see why Brendon loved her so much.

After a year and a couple of months of dating, though, things fizzed out between the two. There was no huge fight, no dramatic breakup, nothing. It was rather quiet and respectful - of course they were still friends. Sarah had grown to be almost as close to Brendon as Spencer was. He still enjoys her company, even now. It’s not like he doesn’t see her often, anyways - when they’re not touring, he’ll see Sarah from time to time in the flat he shares with his ex-girlfriend, Linda. The two women are dating each other, now, and frankly, Spencer can’t say he didn’t see it coming. Sarah introduced Spencer to Linda in the first place, when he was first looking for a place somewhere, and they fell in love, just like that.

Similar to Brendon and Sarah, they broke up not too much later. All in fairness - Spencer couldn’t get over his feelings for Brendon. Linda couldn’t get over her feelings for Sarah. The only difference? Linda has Sarah. They still share the flat. They have a dog. He’s considering moving out, letting Sarah take his place. He could find a new place to live easily, if he got in touch with the right contacts. Maybe Zack wouldn’t mind a roommate.

Linda didn’t find anything out. She could just tell, like Zack. She said to him, once, a while after they’d broken up - he was cooking dinner while she sat at the table with her laptop, doing the bills - that it was the way he looked at Brendon, with this special sort of fondness in his eyes. The way he smiled subconsciously even just looking at Brendon, how Brendon always seemed to cheer him up. She told him, she was never jealous, she just wished that she could have done the same. It’s a heartbreaking statement, but it’s brutally true. He nodded respectfully, and went back to cooking, the pain in his chest just a little bit tighter than it had been before.

 

Spencer flicks his gaze away from Brendon’s sleeping form when he feels a buzz in his pocket. A Twitter notification from Pete - he’s half-way across the globe from them right now, on his own tour with the rest of Fall Out Boy. Pete’s DMing him some stupid picture, his eyesight going fuzzy at the brightness of the white Twitter background. He rolls his eyes at the selfie with Patrick and casually glances at the time - 3:57AM. He didn’t realize how long he’d just been lying there, reminiscing on fond (but oh so painful) memories with Brendon, and watching his cute face twitch into little smiles and pouts as he dreamt.

He can’t help but raise a glass to Pete - they’ve been helping each other with their insomnia since Spencer’s manifested. Sometimes it’s just late night talks on the phone. Other times it’s texting until one of them falls asleep, has to pretend to be asleep for the sake of their bandmate(s), or until it’s time to go and participate in the waking world. Pete has helped him find therapists, doctors. Pete has grown to be closer than he ever expected him to be throughout the years, and to be honest, he’s really fucking thankful.

Pete probably doesn’t realize how big of a help he’s been to Spencer. He wishes he could tell him, but there’s never a right time, and never the right words to say. Pete’s always been the one with words. Brendon’s always been the ones with words, and he can never tell Brendon anything, either. He’s stuck in some voiceless world where all his thoughts are pressed into a tight space, building up pressure but with no way to release. Maybe he’s a ticking-time bomb and someday, he’s going to explode, and ruining everything. The shrapnel will deal more damage in the process. He’ll hurt everyone, he’ll ruin all his relationships, he’ll-

Wow. He really needs to up the grams on his anxiety medication.

He shakes his head and sits up, throwing the sheets off of himself. Spencer stretches, then gets up, heading for the bathroom - but not before ruffling Brendon’s hair quickly, murmuring a soft, gentle, “sweet dreams, B,” then leaving his side and going to observe himself in the mirror after flicking the lights on. What he’s left facing isn’t really a pretty sight.

The lights are bright, brighter than his phone was, and being completely surrounded by it as opposed to just looking at a screen is a little stunning. He squints through the stinging in his eyes to look at himself. He stands tall, not slouching - he’s fixed his posture over the years, which is good. He’s been filling out since a few years ago, when all the weight loss he was going through was starting to become a concern. He’s at a much healthier weight now, but part of him can’t help but be a little ashamed that he let himself get to that point in the first place. When his eyes adjust, he can see the red rims around them, a stark contrast against the deep blue of his eyes. There are bags underneath them, revealing his sleepless nature to anyone paying enough attention. His lips look like they’re drawn into somewhat of a frown, and his eyes don’t have the same gleam in them like they used to. His hair is shorter, so much better than when it was all shaggy and horrible, a little bit like Brendon’s haircut ( _“Aw, we match!” “No, we don’t, shut up!”_ ). All in all, he just looks _tired_ , not just sleep-wise, but in general. Tired of _life_. And, maybe that statement is true. He’s sick of relying on pills to get him through the day. He’s sick of pining, wishing he could just fucking get over Brendon already.

If he hasn’t gotten over him now, he’s not sure he ever will.

Spencer takes one last long, good look at himself, and sighs heavily.

He’s so fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhhhahahah i haven't written in TWO YEARS! but i was missing my brencer boys and brencer in general and writing and there isn't enough pining ever. so have some spencer pining.
> 
> thank you to jay, daniel, and brendon for beta'ing!!!


End file.
